Eyes On You
by angeleyes2827
Summary: She's walking away. And you're not MOVING. Damnit, MOVE. Don't just let her walk away. - A meeting, an exchange of words and a promise that demands not to be broken. Oneshot.


**Author's Note: **A fic inspired by a song; as per usual when it comes to me and my writing. This particular song is very MK in my eyes, and therefore had scenes of varying levels playing through my mind when I listened to it. This fic represents, in the vaguest form, what was going through my mind's eye when I listened to this song, which is mentioned below. This is only the second time that I have written in second person, and as such, am not an expert. I have been told in my only other second person fanfic that the use of 'you' and 'your' should be used at a minimal, and I have tried, to some extent, to minimise their uses. I have tried my absolute best, and I must admit that I am rather proud of how this has turned out, and can only hope that you lovely readers enjoy this as much as I do.

Please leave a comment on your way out, as they really are appreciated – especially concrit.

**Eyes On You (I Swear This Time I Mean It)  
**_A Oneshot_

"_If luck is on my side tonight  
__My clumsy tongue will make it right  
__And wrists that touch  
__It isn't much, but it's enough  
__To form imaginary lines  
__Forget your scars  
__We'll forget mine  
__The hours change so fast  
__Oh, God, please make this last"_

_- Mayday Parade 'I Swear This Time I Mean It'_

She's walking along the corridor, waiting for the right moment to cross the traffic of officers heading in the direction of the exit. You're unsure of her objective in not joining the flow, until she's standing there with nothing but an arm's length of air to fill the gap. Your eyebrow shoots up in a wondering glance and the statement threatening to fall forward is put forth with some well controlled emotion.

"It's good to see you, Kate."

That smile of hers makes a brief appearance, before falling behind her façade and becoming replaced with a steely look of determination. The sudden change causes you to take a step closer than necessary to ask whether or not if she's alright. Her answer – a short quipped yes and swift turning of the heel – does nothing to quell the ache starting to grow in your chest. Her actions cause an endless string of questions to take up any available brain space, and you wonder if certain parts of the human body should be _running_ after her at this given moment.

You ponder this thought a while, before a voice from somewhere across the open planned space cuts across the light chatter from the remaining personnel. Turning, a blonde-haired commander – your commanding officer and friend – walks with an air of authority, still holding onto the femininity that defines her. The attempt of a smile as she comes closer, fails, and you find yourself wishing that the opportunity that had presented itself just before, had been acted upon.

"Maxine." Her name falls flat, and it takes a moment to regain the usual playfulness that is generally associated between the both of you. "You just caught me." The eyes show truth, but the voice (and mouth) tells lies. "I was just about to go home for the day."

Her look is sympathetic, and she seems to contemplate letting you go. Luck plays its hand and she says that it can wait until morning. She leaves for her office, allowing personal freedom for you to act as you will. The newly given opportunity is grasped, and the legs that wouldn't budge earlier begin to pick up rhythm, turning from walk, to jog, to run.

The general direction in which you begin to run is unknown, for who knows which way she went? But deep within, a small feeling of connection, something once faded into memory now re-emerged in great aching passion, pulls towards the wharf. It is lined with docked boats, all varying in sizes and types. There are people walking onto them, coming off them, and just enjoying a stroll along the wooden platform that leads part way out to the horizon.

Legs slow to a walk, and carry you along the pathway of horizontally panelled wood. With breaths coming out in short puffs and slowing to a more regular pattern, the uncalled feeling continues to pull towards the other end of the dock. That is when you see her. She stands with her hands gripping at the railing, golden locks blowing gently with the breeze and endless green pools staring out to the ocean, looking beyond the horizon at a ship that sails beyond her reach. _Both _your reaches.

"Do you think it was worth it?" she calls. She _knows_ you're standing there, staring, and contemplating whether to join her at the railing or not. "Do you think she was worth giving up?" She turns her head briefly, beckoning you to join her with only a slight look. The gesture is gone before a response comes to mind, and soon, the railing is gripped by another pair of hands – one pair darker than the other, and showing the contrast between the two people standing there.

"I don't know," you reply, unsure of the words, "Maybe." Looking down, blue is met with green. Breaths catch and it is a wonder that oxygen intake is still being received. "I hope." Swallowing is the only option at this point. Hearts blind the eyes, melodies deafen the ears, and the scent of vanilla fills the nose, leaving touch the only available sense left to grasp at the fantasy taking place.

Your hands reach out for hers, and soon fingers are intertwined and locked. Eyes begin to see again, and are met with the sight of a beautiful woman, watching carefully, to see the next move. Nostrils are still filled with the scent of vanilla – _her scent_, and it is discovered that the melody once playing through your ears, is still there, causing the realisation that there must be a band playing somewhere nearby.

"If we do this... are you going to let me down again?"

Her question, so innocent and simplistic in its delivery, brings a knife to the chest. A glance down to look her in the eye and realisation at how vulnerable she has made herself, becomes apparent. There is a swell deep within the chest, threatening to burst open walls and spill out like a wave. Her hands are grasped at tightly, assurance wanting to make an appearance.

"I'm not going to let you down again, Kate." Your words are said with sincerity and belief. She searches, looking from something unknown in the blue eyes presented. "I swear this time I mean it. I'm not going to let you down again." Her eyes waver and you become unsure if whether or not she is convinced. "If I do, you have my permission to kill me."

She breaks into a smile at these words, and suddenly her arms are around your neck, her lips coming to within inches of your own. "I don't think I could kill you," she whispers, and then it's only her. Arms pull her closer, pressing the petite form to one that is larger, stronger. Her hands tangle in your hair and ignorance of the public location remains as it is. People pass and people stop, then look and continue on their way, smiling at the happy couple that is you and Kate.


End file.
